Master of Death
by Godlybunny
Summary: When Harry's last refuge of safety in Britain is rendered unsafe due to a certain uncle of his, Dumbledore intervenes and sends him out of country, to a country named Japan. There he meets the Tohsaka family, and begins his life anew.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So not the greatest start to this story, but the plot bunny insisted.**

"WAKE UP, BOY!"

With a start, Harry Potter jolted up and whacked his head on the top of his cupboard. He was eight years old, with his birthday only the day before. It had been just like his previous birthdays, nothing. No presents, no food, no breaks. Just another shirt from Dudley, which, as always, was nearly four sizes too large.

Stifling a groan, he brushed a spider off his legs, slid an overly large shirt over his skinny frame, and swung open the door of his cupboard. He winced as he felt his leg twinge from the game of 'Harry Hunting' the day before and padded his way into the front room.

Mechanically, he passed the table set up in the dining room and walked into the kitchen. Switching the stove on, he quickly began cooking breakfast, using eight eggs, three rashers of bacon, three packs of hash browns, and four more tablespoons of oil than he could probably stomach. Pausing only to brush his untamable hair out of his eyes, he started carrying plates out to the dining room where the Dursleys were sitting impatiently.

He was about to hand Dudley his breakfast when the fat boy grinned menacingly and slammed his foot into Harry's. With a cry, the small boy tripped and hit the ground hard, the plates smashing into the floor and depositing food everywhere, along with shards of porcelain.

Uncle Vernon's face slowly purpled as Petunia gasped, horrified at the loss of her plate, which, unfortunately, had been one of the few things that she received from her mother that Lily hadn't gotten. Dudley almost laughed before plastering an obviously fake look of surprise on his large face.

With a heave, Vernon stood up and bellowed, "BOY!" Angrily tugging at his mustache, he cuffed Harry hard in the head, sending the skinny, malnourished boy flying into the wall. As he made contact, stars exploded behind his eyes, and something snapped in his arm. Whimpering in pain, he made the mistake of trying to fight back.

* * *

In his spacious office, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat quite happily, two lemon drops safely in the cavern of his mouth. He was content. Not only had Professor McGonagall given him a nice pair of woolly socks, but Professor Flitwick had charmed his lemon drop dish to be Never-Ending, always refilling the dish as long as the item itself was not larger than the dish. All was well.

As always, his mind wandered, and he closed his eyes, reflecting on his life. He had hit the triple digits just five short years ago, and he was beginning to feel each and every one of those years. In the course of the century he'd seen, he'd lived a full life, managed to defeat Grindelwald, and teach the most amazing students he'd had the honor to instruct.

Albus's only regrets were Arianna and the Potters. It had been his fault that the Potters had died. He had been convinced that Sirius would be too obvious as the secret keeper, and convinced him to change it to Pettigrew. He'd never even remotely considered that any of the Marauders, barring Remus, could be working for Voldemort. Not only that, but Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban and had his wand snapped before he could do anything about it. Nothing could have been done, as Veritaserum was not reliable enough to use during a trial, and his wand, being snapped, could not be examined.

Arianna was too painful to think about.

So Albus redirected his thoughts to Harry. It had been his birthday yesterday. He hoped that his relatives weren't treating him too badly, but the safety of the blood wards was essential to ensuring the boy's survival.

Even as those thoughts were crossing his mind, a silver spiraled instrument on his desk started whirling, blaring a shrill alarm. It flashed red, startling the Headmaster from his thoughts.

Dread filled his body as he confirmed which instrument had gone off. That particular alarm had been keyed directly to Harry, and only went off if he was in severe danger. Standing, he sent off a Patronus to alert Professor McGonagall to his absence and flicked a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace. Stepping in, he called, "Figg residence," and disappeared in a flash of green fire.

* * *

Arabella Figg hummed merrily as she tended to her plants in the backyard. She found that gardening was an enjoyable hobby, and spent most of her free time fussing over her plants. Not three feet away, two of her half-kneazle cats were sprawled in the sun, basking in the warmth of the early morning.

As she clipped a particularly large branch off one of her rosebushes, she heard the distinct crackle of flames that signified a person coming through the Floo Network. That was odd, she thought, not many people, if any, came through her fireplace. Most people didn't associate with a Squib like her, and all others usually apparated.

With that thought in mind, she stood up and made her way back into the house. Stepping into the parlor, she was greeted with the sight of a worried Albus Dumbledore. That worried her. His eyes were lacking his customary twinkle, and his shoulders were bowed, as if a great burden had settled upon them.

"Dumbledore," she greeted, "what brings you—"

"—No time. Harry is in danger," Dumbledore interrupted her, drawing his wand. "Have you heard anything?"

"What? No, nothing. Is it Death Eaters?"

Dumbledore's face was grim. "No, that is not likely. Unfortunately, the most likely scenario is that the Dursleys have resorted to physically abusing him."

Arabella gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "What? But—" Her gaze narrowed. "If this was possible, why did you leave him with them?"

"I will explain later. For the moment, I will retrieve Harry." And with that, Albus Dumbledore swept out of the house, casting a weak Notice-Me-Not charm as he stalked towards Number Four Privet Drive.

"YOU FREAK! WE GIVE YOU FOOD, WE GIVE YOU A ROOF OVER YOUR GODDAMN HEAD, AND THIS IS HOW YOU BEHAVE?" Vernon roared, smashing his foot into Harry's ribs. Harry whimpered in pain, feeling yet another rib break. He tried to get his wind back, only to nearly howl in pain as a rib punctured his lung. He coughed violently, and expelled blood onto his shirt and the floor.

"Vernon, stop!" Aunt Petunia cried, her face growing whiter and whiter. "You can't kill him!" Even Dudley began to lose some color at the sight of Harry coughing blood onto the floor.

"And why not? He's just a freak spawned from your freak sister," Vernon fumed furiously. With a cruel grin, he carefully stepped on Harry's left hand, feeling the bones of his fingers crack beneath his feet. "We need to teach him his place in life."

"No!" Petunia cried, "the freaks will come—" At that moment, the doorbell rang, just before the door slammed open, revealing a coldly furious Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore rarely, if ever, became angry. Normally, he was a cheerful and mischievous old man with a preference for sweets of any kind. But when he was angry, when something had riled him up past even his formidable patience, he turned into a powerful wizard who was even more terrifying than Lord Voldemort himself. Not even his peculiar choice of clothes could mask the fact that Albus was one of, if not the most terrifying wizards to anger in the Wizarding World.

Exuding an aura of pure fury and his wrinkled face twisted into a portrait of rage, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the house, dropping the Notice-Me-Not charm.

The Dursleys paled, with Petunia shaking like a leaf. She had the greatest understanding of what Dumbledore could do to them, due to Lily's teasing over her teenage summers. She was on the verge of passing out entirely, supporting herself with her chair.

"W-what's going on, Mummy?" Dudley finally managed to squeak, his pudgy face slack with fear.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?" Vernon roared, his face quickly regaining its color as his fear turned to rage, as was his habit. "GET OUT OF—"

"Do you know what you have done?" Albus whispered furiously. The room instantly quieted, the Headmaster's quiet words seeming to echo through the room.

Throwing quick looks towards his wife and son, Vernon blustered, "I'm teaching the freak his place. He's disrespecting me and my family and—"

"How could you, Petunia?" Dumbledore interrupted, ignoring Vernon. "This is your sister's son, your nephew! How could you condone such behavior?"

"D-d-d-don't m-mention Lily to m-me again," Petunia whispered, recovering slightly. "Her and the Potter bastard! Even before he showed up, she got that h-horrid letter and went off to that… that school of hers! Even when she wasn't home, it was Lily this and Lily that! They were proud of her because she was different and went to a different school! Nothing g-good can come out of her son!"

"And this was good enough reason to abuse her only child?" Dumbledore asked, his voice dangerously quiet. Her only response was a half-sob. He sighed wearily, his rage deflating like a spent balloon. "I'll be taking Harry."

"Good. Take the freak and keep him!" Vernon declared, nervously tugging at his moustache.

"I'll also be taking down the blood wards."

Petunia paled. "What? N-no! We'll be in danger!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Even if I left them up, they require Harry's presence, and also that he call this house home. He'll be doing neither."

With a note of finality, he crouched down and gently took the wheezing Harry into his arms. With the boy safely in his arms, he walked to the middle of the parlor and out the door, leaving a stricken Petunia Dursley alone with her confused family.

Albus Dumbledore sighed wearily and held his head in his hands. Harry was safely in the hands of Madam Pomfrey, with three broken ribs, two broken fingers, one shattered finger, and one broken arm with breaks in two separate places. He was recovering nicely, if only physically. The poor boy still wasn't even used to his own name, for Merlin's sake! The boy was confused at why Madam Pomfrey wasn't calling him a freak! Again, he sighed, and popped a lemon drop into his mouth.

His most pressing problem was where to place Harry. He couldn't have him staying at Hogwarts, for that could have irreparable consequences on his pride. He could not learn too much about his status as The-Boy-Who-Lived too early, or he would most likely become arrogant and overconfident. No, Hogwarts was out of the question.

Because of that particular problem, there really wasn't any place that he could be sheltered at in Britain while remaining safe and ignorant of his status. The Leaky Cauldron was too popular with too many people walking in and out. He couldn't leave him with any of the pureblood families, nor could he just drop him off at a Muggle orphanage. Albus pursed his lips as he remembered Tom Marvolo Riddle, and how many mistakes he had made with the young man.

After pondering for quite a while, he realized his mistake. He was thinking in terms of the Wizarding World, and confining his possibilities to Britain. There were other options.

Like the Mages Association.

The Mages Association was completely separate from the Wizarding World, and those who did know the specifics of Voldemort's demise would not care enough to tell Harry too much. Furthermore, the Mages Association was not heavily centered in Britain. Many mages lived all over the world, even if the Clock Tower was based in London.

There were far worse possibilities, Albus decided. Immediately, his mind settled on a past associate of his, from Japan. Albus had met the man in muggle London, where he had been currently attending the Clock Tower. They had quickly found many things in common, but had been forced to separate because of Grindelwald. It had been years since they had contacted each other, but Albus knew that he would not leave his home in Japan too easily. It was, after all, more than several generations old and the ancestral home of his family.

His decision made, Albus leaned back in his chair, content in his decision to leave Harry with Tohsaka Keiji.

* * *

The first thing Harry was aware of was a throbbing pain in his left pinky and an intense itching on his arm. Blinking blearily, he used his uninjured right hand to scrabble for his glasses, for without them, he was practically blind. He finally grasped his glasses and shoved them on his face, blinking as the world came into focus.

For a moment, he could not remember where he was, until the memory of a fussy woman forcing him to drink several repulsive potions reminded him. He was at some sort of hospital, Moghorts? No, it was Hogwarts, he remembered.

Groaning, he sat up, only to hiss in pain and fall back down. His body hurt all over. Lifting his head, he took a look at his body.

There was a large bandage on his right arm, and his fingers were splinted, with bandages wrapping around his waist. His head was pounding, and his neck was sore, throbbing whenever he moved it. "Ouch," he muttered, as he tallied his own injuries like a checklist. Sort of like when he got groceries. Check off one item and move to the next.

Fear bubbled in his stomach as the thought of going back to Uncle Vernon entered his mind. He was definitely not going to have much food when that came around. Maybe he'd even beat Harry up again. Dudley would just get him in trouble again, now that he knew he could get away with it.

With a swish, the curtains surrounding his bed opened. The woman from before bustled in. "Good, you're awake," she said curtly, and wheeled in a large cart crammed with bottles of every shape and size. Most of the liquids were clear or some sort of dull color, with some exceptions. Harry noticed a particular potion that was bright orange with bubbles racing _down_.

All of a sudden, a bottle was thrust towards him. "Drink this," the woman ordered. Harry dutifully choked it down; it had a horrible taste that was sour and spicy at the same time. Again, he was handed a potion, and he downed it, and all consecutive bottles.

Drinking the last vial, he immediately felt his eyes drooping. Within a minute, he was deep in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tohsaka Tokiomi let out a groan unbefitting of a man of his status as the doorknocker woke him up. He shifted around blearily, accidently waking up his wife.

"What's wrong?" Aoi asked drowsily.

"Someone's at the door," Tokiomi mumbled, and managed to push himself out of bed. Without having to look, he knew his wife was greedily stealing his share of the sheets. He pulled on a dark red pullover and shoved himself into last night's pants.

Running a hand through his normally groomed hair, he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. It had been at least a month since Sakura had stopped wailing in the middle of the night. He was taking great advantage of the respite, after all, who woudn't?

Padding into the freezing entrance hall, he unbolted the door and threw it open. And stared at the odd people standing at his door. One looked extremely old, with a beard long enough to reach his navel and purple robes that had a pattern of cheerful yellow stars plastered on it. The other was a small child, cradled in the man's arms. His hair was extremely messy and shaggy, standing out from his pale skin. He was clothed in ill-fitting pyjamas.

"Excuse me?" Tokiomi asked, doing his best to keep his composure.

"I'm terribly sorry about waking you at this hour, but I must speak to Tohsaka Keiji," the old man said apologetically.

"My old man? He passed away a couple years ago."

"I see," the old man said softly. "I was wondering if I could persuade him to take in Harry, but that is impossible now, isn't it?"

"The boy?" Tokiomi asked curiously. "You want us to take him in?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude," the old man said regretfully, "but if you are willing, then I thank you and promise that you will be rewarded."

"Reward? You mean money?" Tokiomi asked, his interest officially piqued. The Tohsaka jewelcraft thaumaturgy wasn't exactly cheap and required a great deal of the Tohsaka fortune just to maintain the necessary amounts of the precious stones on hand. He decided it was worth it. "I don't mean to sound greedy or presumptuous, but how much money are you talking about? My…career requires that I dip into my own funds more than I feel safe doing, and frankly, the extra money could help."

The man nodded. "Ah, the Tohsaka jewelcraft thaumaturgy. I see how that could require funds."

Tokiomi was instantly on guard. "You are a magus? Who are you?"

"Oh, I am no magus; rather, I am a wizard. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

The Tohsaka family head frowned, the name striking a chord. "Albus Dumbledore," he said slowly, "the defeater of Gellert Grindlewald?"

"The very same," Dumbledore said, though he seemed a bit saddened. "I must say, I'm surprised you know me. I was under the assumption that most mages very rarely deigned to keep up with the wizarding world."

"My father talked about you," Tokiomi admitted. He suddenly remembered his manners. "Would you like to come in?" he said hastily. "My apologies, I don't normally entertain guests at this hour."

"No, it is I who should apologize," Dumbledore said, entering the mansion. "It is such an early hour, but I'm afraid this matter is of utmost importance.

Tokiomi led him to the parlor and took a seat, gesturing for Dumbledore to sit across from him. "How important is it?"

"I told you that you would be rewarded," Dumbledore began, with the boy still in his arms, "but I have yet to tell you of the dangers. There is a dark lord that would like nothing more than to see young Harry here dead."

Tokiomi steepled his fingers together, his mind firmly on business mode. "How dangerous is this 'dark lord'?" he asked. "How long am I to harbor him, and is there anything special that I should look out for?"

Dumbledore looked grave. "Lord Voldemort is extremely dangerous, even by your standards. It would not surprise me to see him use your magic, and I suspect that he has employed the use of Horcruxes. In addition, he is extremely skilled with dark magic and has a group of followers that has managed to escape incarceration thus far."

Tokiomi nodded absently, but one unfamiliar word had caught his attention. "Horcruxes?" he asked. "Is there anything particularly powerful about it?"

"A horcrux is an object where an individual places a part of his soul," Dumbledore whispered. "I am not sure of the exact procedure, but I do know that it consists of an act of murder in order to split the soul. It is one of the darkest rituals known to our magic."

"He split his soul?" Tokiomi muttered, horrified. To a magus, splitting the soul would be an unforgiveable act. Though it wasn't officially confirmed, he knew the Clock Tower had evidence that the magic circuits truly resided in the soul. To cut those circuits away would be virtual suicide to a mage. Could he honestly take in a target of such a person?

Dumbledore stared at him, and he got the feeling that one more bombshell was to come. "I see that you are conflicted," the old man said softly. "This is the last place where Harry could be truly safe, and so I cannot hold anything back. I understand that you may have already made your decision, but there is one last thing I must tell you."

Tokiomi held his breath as the wizard took something small out of his pocket. When Dumbledore withdrew his wand and unshrunk the basin, his eyeballs grew to the size of dinner plates. However, despite his astonishment, he kept quiet.

"This is a pensieve. It allows wizards to store and view their memories," Dumbledore explained. He placed his wand to his head, muttering something inaudibly to himself. Tokiomi watched with no shortage of amazement as the wand came away with a silvery strand of something on the tip. It was placed in the basin, and seemed to fill the entire space despite its small size.

"Now I am showing you this in the strictest confidence," Dumbledore said firmly. "Even if you decide not to take in Harry, I ask that you not speak a word of this to anyone."

With a soft flick of his wand and some words, a gray, spectral shape coalesced just above the surface of the basin. After a moment, it settled into the shape of a gawky woman with massive bottlecap glasses and some ridiculous-looking robes. She had a distant look in her eyes, and spoke in a deep and raspy voice that belied her skinny frame.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. _

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies _

_and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not _

_and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

"What was that?" Tokiomi breathed, staring at the woman in astonishment. There had been an otherworldly feel to those words, as if there was some sort of greater power backing her speech.

"A prophecy." Dumbledore looked grave, his face troubled. "Harry is the subject of this prophecy. I want you to know that there will definitely be things happening around that boy. I came to ask your father because I was a close friend of his. I knew I could ask of him what I am now asking of you, but you have no such guarantees of my character." He stared somberly down at the sleeping child in his arms. "I know you have a family, but still I will ask. Will you take Harry in? Despite the risks and despite the potential dangers to your family?"

Tokiomi thought of his wife. His daughters, Rin and Sakura. He should say no. He knew that the right answer would be no, to protect his family and keep them happy.

But every time he thought of saying no, he saw the completely different magic that Dumbledore used. He imagined the money he would receive and how much easier his life could be knowing he didn't have to ration as much or play it safe all the time. This could be a major advantage in finding Akasha!

"I'll take him," Tokiomi said, having decided on a course of action. "I'll take the boy."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this was already written, I was just kind of lazy getting it up. Don't expect the next chapter to come as quickly, but since school's ending soon I might have time to write more.**

* * *

Harry snorted and sat up quickly, the green light of his dreams fading to be replaced by darkness. He blinked groggily, scrabbling around for his glasses. Then he realized that he couldn't find the ledge where his glasses usually sat.

Suddenly Harry realized that he was lying in a bed. A _massive_ bed. He felt almost lost in it, used to the scrunched up mattress in his cupboard. He blinked again, realizing that there was just a tinge of light somewhere to his right. Pushing himself upright, he cautiously scooted to the edge of the bed, and realized too late that this bed was much higher off the ground than he was used to.

Landing with a muted thud on the carpeted floor, he stood and blindly made his way to the dim light. Reaching his hands out, his hands encountered thick cloth, and he pulled. Bright light spilled into the darkened room, revealing a very large room that was nearly three times the size of Uncle Vernon's bedroom. Using his limited vision, he made his way over to a rectangular, brown blur beside the bed and scrabbled over the hard surface, searching for his glasses.

Just when he'd found them and shoved them on his face, the door behind him opened. Harry whirled to see a tall man leaning against the doorjamb. He was dressed in a red sweater-vest over a white collared shirt, with black pants. His hair was reminiscent of Harry's own messy black hair, but it was combed and slightly tamed, and a bit shorter. Not to mention that it was more brown than black.

The man said something in a peculiar language, the syllables incomprehensible and meaning nothing to Harry. When he finished speaking, Harry tipped his head, puzzled. Well, what exactly was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he could interpret all of that. Well, he might've heard his name in all of that, but he didn't understand anything else.

The man suddenly closed his eyes, an understanding look flitting across his face. Closing his eyes, he seemed to concentrate for a moment, then spoke again. "Hello Harry-kun. My name is Tohsaka Tokiomi," the man said slowly, enunciating the words clearly. There was a bit of an accent to his words, and Harry figured that he wasn't used to speaking English. "My apologies. It has been nearly three years since I have last spoken English."

"Erm, that's fine," Harry said uncomfortably, fidgeting slightly. "Um, where am I?"

"You are in my house. Dumbledore-san has placed you into my care," Tokiomi said. "As for how long, that remains to be seen."

"So I don't have to go back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked excitedly. Tokiomi raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Harry quickly backtracked. "Sorry, they're my guardians. Or they were, I guess. I didn't like them much, and they didn't like me." He scuffed a foot lightly on the floor, red. "Er, where am I sleeping?"

"What do you mean? This is your room," Tokiomi said, sounding confused. "Where else would you sleep?"

"The Dursleys made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs," Harry said. "Wait, this whole room's for me?" he blurted in surprise.

"Of course." There was a trace of dissatisfaction on Tokiomi's face. "You slept in a cupboard?" he queried.

Harry nodded. "It was small and dark, and there was always spiders," he said. "Dudley—he's my cousin—he liked to stomp over my cupboard whenever he went up or down the stairs."

"Well, there'll be nothing of that here," Tokiomi said. "I have two daughters, and I hope that they will not be as bad as this cousin that you describe." He uncrossed his arms. "You may roam the house as you like, but please take care with anything you find. The basement, my study, the master bedroom, and the library are off limits. The kitchen is also open to you as you wish," he added, his eyes roving over Harry's skinny body. "If you need anything, you only need to ask."

"Um, okay. Thank you, Mr. Tokiomi."

"Actually, my surname is Tohsaka," Tokiomi corrected, though he looked amused. "It is Japanese custom to say the family name first, that is my fault. I would prefer to be called Tokiomi-san for now."

"-san?" Harry asked, confused.

"An honorific." At Harry's uncomprehending face, Tokiomi simplified it. "A sign of respect."

"Oh. Okay, Tokiomi-san."

"Well then, I will go back to my work. My wife is with my daughters, at the end of the hall to the left. I suggest you introduce yourself." And with that, Tokiomi turned and left the room.

Without anything better to do, Harry tiptoed out of the room. The place was so big, and he felt like he didn't belong. It was like he was intruding, and he was still a bit giddy at knowing he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys. There was no way he'd mess this up.

Reaching the door at the end, Harry tentatively knocked. A moment passed, then the door was opened by a dark-haired woman.

"Oh! Um, you… be Harry-san?" she asked in broken English. Harry assumed this meant not everyone spoke English. "I Tohsaka Aoi. Nice to meet you."

"Um, you too," Harry said. Aoi smiled gently at him and guided him into the room. Almost immediately, he was hit with a smell that his mind instinctively labeled 'child'. It had that odd smell that always seemed to accompany small children.

The room seemed to be a nursery of some sort. Two cribs were set against the wall, and the rest of the room was cleared. Two girls sat in the middle of the room. The Tohsaka daughters, Harry assumed.

The larger of the two immediately fell on all fours and scampered over to him as soon as her eyes landed on him. She was nearly upon Harry when her arms and legs tangled, and she came to a halt on the floor. Aoi laughed and scooped her daughter up, who was tearing up and on the verge of wailing. With a small thump, the woman set herself on her rear and began rocking the child back and forth, humming softly.

Harry tentatively settled beside her, keeping at least a couple feet of space between them. "What are their names?" he asked quietly, his eyes resting on the smaller one. She was much quieter, her eyes the same aquamarine as her sister's.

"Names? This Rin," Aoi said, indicating the girl in her arms. She nodded towards the smaller girl. "Sakura."

"Wow." The closest thing to a baby that Harry had seen had been Dudley, and he hadn't exactly been a small, delicate child like the Tohsakas. Hesitantly, he reached out a finger towards Rin, stroking her hair in awe.

The small girl immediately latched onto his finger with her tiny fist, giggling happily. Harry yelped in surprise, and reddened as Aoi chuckled in amusement. She deposited Rin carefully in his arms and picked Sakura up in her own, continuing the rocking motion from before. Sakura yawned sleepily and cooed at Harry, her eyes staring inquisitively at his own emerald ones.

For the next hour he sat there with Aoi, playing with Rin as Sakura slumbered in her mother's arms. At some point, when he was laughing and fending off Rin's attempts to play with his hair, he finally realized that the Dursleys were no longer a part of his life. Now he lived here in this giant house, with his own bedroom. Though he still didn't know the Tohsakas well, he already knew that they were much better than the Dursleys were.

And that made him happy.

Later that day, Harry found himself wandering the mansion. Aoi had excused herself after Rin had finally exhausted herself, and now he had nothing better to do than to just walk the halls.

After a moment, he found himself in the kitchen, which was much bigger than the Dursleys. He poked around a bit, finding a great deal more bowls and sharp things than he thought he would ever find in a kitchen. On a whim, he opened the massive refrigerator. It was well stocked, with lots of green, healthy vegetables that the Dursleys normally never touched.

Distantly, a bell began to toll. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Harry blinked. It was dinner time already? Acting on habit, he began reaching for ingredients and familiarizing himself with the kitchen.

He was halfway done with straining some noodles he'd found in the back of the pantry when Tokiomi entered the kitchen and halted, flabbergasted.

"Not done yet," Harry said absently, stirring the sauce and opening the oven, checking on the garlic bread. Seeing that it was done, the eight-year-old boy grabbed oven mitts and pulled the tray out, setting it on two of the cool burners on the stove.

"Harry-kun? What are you doing?"

"Making dinner," Harry said, confused. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Um, was I not supposed to?"

"You didn't have to," the older man sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If you want to, go ahead. I don't think you could do worse than my wife."

A sharp retort of Japanese came from behind him, and Tokiomi looked chagrined as he turned to face Aoi. Harry almost kept watching them, but the ding of the timer reminded him to take the bubbling sauce off of the burner.

Not ten minutes later, he had the Tohsakas sit at the dining table and served the food. Thankfully, Aoi could at least handle Rin and Sakura, since he didn't know what babies ate. He did flush a deep red when Aoi unbuttoned part of her shirt to feed Sakura. Rin sat in a bright red high chair that looked extremely out of place in the extravagant dining room, still somewhat drowsy.

"Good," Tokiomi said in surprise after taking a bite. "Harry-kun, when did you learn to cook?"

"When I was... five?" Harry ventured. "Aunt Petunia made me start cooking as soon as I was big enough. I didn't do well at first, so I didn't eat well that year."

"Was the food that bad?" Tokiomi chuckled lightheartedly.

Harry looked down, fidgeting. "No…Uncle Vernon would send me to my cupboard without food," he mumbled, embarrassed. "If he didn't like a meal, he locked me in the cupboard."

Aoi frowned, and started speaking quickly to Tokiomi. As they conversed, her face paled more and more. Tokiomi himself seemed to be more serious as well, and Harry guiltily kept his head down. He wasn't supposed to speak of his freakiness to strangers.

All of a sudden, Aoi put Sakura down and stood. Sakura whined a bit, but quieted as Tokiomi took her in his arms. Aoi marched around the table and enveloped Harry into a hug. "We never do that," she said firmly.

Harry trembled within the first hug that he could remember. Something glass in the kitchen shattered. Tokiomi stiffened in surprise, his arms tightening around Sakura. The door to the kitchen blew open, one of the glasses on the table vanished, and Rin's high chair switched to a confused yellow green. Harry didn't notice any of this as he threw his arms around Aoi, burying his head in her embrace.

The chaos quieted down. Harry relaxed in Aoi's arms, exhaustion creeping into his body. Tokiomi rubbed his hands against Sakura's back, attempting to calm the agitated girl. Rin was wide-eyed, but had thankfully not burst into tears.

"I'll take him up_,_ Tokiomi said to his wife in Japanese, and switched Sakura for Harry. He cradled the boy in his arms and left the room, heading for the bedroom.

* * *

Bumping the door open with his shoulder. Tokiomi entered and set Harry down on the bed. For a moment, he stared at the young child. Dumbledore had warned him about accidental magic, but it had already impressed him. One of those glasses had actually vanished, which bordered on true magic. And he suspected The high chair would remain that horrid color unless it was actively changed back.

Tokiomi was also now acutely aware of Harry's malnourished body. Now that he knew to look for it, he could see that Harry's small body had more to do with a lack of food rather than having a fast metabolism. He hadn't weighed much either when Tokiomi had carried him upstairs.

He was beginning to realize that Harry was beginning to mean something. Before, he had been an opportunity to Tokiomi, a source of income for his expensive thamauturgy and a possible advantage to reaching Akasha. But now that he knew a little more of Harry's childhood, it was getting harder and harder to distance himself from the boy.

Harry was a very real person, with very real problems. Tokiomi finally saw that. Dumbledore had told him sending him to live with the Dursleys was a mistake, though he'd avoided the issue when Tokiomi had tried to delve deeper in curiosity. Now he understood why.

Tokiomi knew he was an arrogant and sometimes manipulative person. He wasn't stupid, and his arrogance wasn't unjustified. He'd recognized Albus Dumbledore to be similar to him, though his arrogance was of a different sort. Dumbledore had a well-meant arrogance; it was due to all of his experience. He'd defeated a dark lord, and he was powerful. He'd taken control of Harry's life and tried to protect him with only his safety and future concerns as a priority.

And Dumbledore had realized and admitted his mistake once he'd found out about Harry's abuse. It was something that, after long thought, Tokiomi realized he was missing.

Consequences just weren't a priority in his mind. He was the heir to the Tohsaka family, he was a very well-respected member of the Clock Tower and the Mages Association, he had a beautiful, perfect wife, and he had two daughters that he loved. He had an extensive thaumaturgy from his father and had made steady improvements to the Tohsaka jewel magecraft.

Various explosions came to mind as Tokiomi's mind skimmed over his improvements. He did have a tendency to jump into his experiments without preparing properly, he admitted to himself. Though he'd had the foresight to set up a bounded field all around the basement, he never really considered the potential harm and damage that his experiments caused. It was because he was so confident that it would work, and when he failed he was arrogant enough to be confident in his ability to rework the theory and get it right the next time.

It was a vicious cycle, and Tokiomi decided he needed to wizen up. Harry was a living, breathing example of how larger manipulation could have long-lasting consequences that were hard to rectify. Dumbledore had placed him with relatives that he'd been confident of in his plans, and had made a grave mistake in placing the boy with them. Tokiomi could easily see the parallels in his own life.

Perhaps this was a good thing, he thought.

* * *

**Three Years Later**

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry snorted and opened his eyes to see dark text in front of his eyes. Groaning, he peeled his face off the book and rubbed at his eyes, almost dislodging his glasses. "'m up!" he called blearily, and stood shakily. He groaned again; his bum was sore and he had a crick in his neck.

Aoi smiled from the doorway. "I told you not to fall asleep studying again," she scolded. "Honestly, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, picking at a bit of sleep crust and grimacing at the awful taste in his mouth. His foot came down on a hard gem and he yelped and grabbed his foot. "Ow!"

"Careful," Aoi warned with a smile on her face. "At least you're not as bad as Tokiomi. Or even Rin." She shook her head. "Those two can put sloths to shame in the mornings."

"Rin always drinks milk straight from the carton," Harry complained. "I don't even know how she manages it; she can barely reach the fridge."

Tokiomi appeared behind Aoi, his hair untidy and a carton of milk in his hands. "Someone say milk?" he asked blearily before slugging milk straight from the carton.

Harry sighed, his question answered. Tokiomi was just so... different sometimes. Most of the time the man just bled class and extravagance. He was sophisticated, high-class, and calculating, especially when he had people over. He was the epitome of an elite magus, and he knew it.

And then there was morning Tokiomi. Barely functioning, disheveled, and prone to drinking milk straight from the carton.

Not only that, but Rin seemed to have inherited all of her father's morning habits. She was actually worse than him at the moment, because she often fell asleep again after getting out of bed, even if she was standing. More than once Harry had entered the bathroom at the end of the hall to find the girl slumbering against the wall, dead to the world despite the freezing tile.

Aoi seemed to remember something. "Oh! Harry, you got something in the mail." She handed him an envelope, missing how Tokiomi's gaze sharpened as he lowered the milk carton. Harry took the envelope, which was made of some sort of thick paper, and read the writing in emerald ink on the back.

_Mr. H Potter  
The Downstairs Library  
Tohsaka Manor  
Miyama  
Fuyuki_

Curiously, he opened it and withdrew the contents. His eyes latched onto the letter and he began to read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. H Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1__st__. We await your owl by no later than July 31__st__._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry stared at the letter for a moment, confused. "It's saying I'm a wizard?" he asked in disbelief. "And why does Hogwarts sound familiar?"

Tokiomi grumbled darkly to himself and drained the milk carton. "Harry, a wizard is different from a magus," he explained. "You have been training as a magus, though I'm surprised that you're capable of both styles of magic."

"Not much of a magus," Harry muttered. "So what now? Am I going?"

"I assume so," Tokiomi said dryly. "It's your decision, not mine."

Harry considered the situation. He was being asked to attend a school for wizards (which sounded positively ridiculous; he was a magus!), they apparently knew him by name and (very exact) location, and he didn't know what a wizard actually _was_ except as a different kind of magic user. "What's a wizard?" he queried.

Tokiomi said, "I don't really know. Wizards are extremely secretive, and most of my attempts to find more found nothing. I know, however, that wizards are capable of much different magic than magi are."

That interested Harry. "Really? Like what?"

"Well," Tokiomi began, "one wizard was able to enlarge a basin."

Harry felt just a little disappointed. "That's it?"

"He took it out of his pocket and, using just a wand, made it," Tokiomi spread his arms and eyed them critically, "about that big."

The boy goggled and Aoi laughed at his expression. "Well, we'll support you no matter what you choose," she said kindly.

Harry blinked and nodded. Remembering the envelope, he began to read the equipment list. Midway through, a thought hit him. "Where exactly am I supposed to get this stuff?"

The door knocker thudded through the house before Tokiomi could answer. Combing his fingers through his hair, he exited the library and made his way to the entrance hall. With one last smoothing of his red jumper and black slacks, he opened the door.

Albus Dumbledore stood there, his eyes twinkling. "Tokoimi-san," he greeted.

"Dumbledore-san," Tokiomi returned. "It's good to see you again, at a more pleasant hour." A yawn overtook him before he could stifle it. "Maybe not the best hour, however," he amended as he closed the door behind Dumbledore.

"I apologize," the headmaster said sincerely. "However, am I correct in saying that Harry has gotten his acceptance letter?"

"He has it, but he's a little confused as to what exactly a wizard is."

Dumbledore frowned. "That may be difficult, even for me," he commented. "Under normal circumstances, the usual response is 'you are capable of magic'. However, it seems that it will not work in this situation." The old wizard stroked his beard thoughtfully. "How is his training going?"

"There isn't much I can teach him," Tokiomi admitted. "He isn't aligned to jewel thaumaturgy very well, and his limited number of magic circuits limits his potential. Right now he's limited to gradation air and reinforcement, since he doesn't have much of an elemental alignment either. If he was solely a magus, I would not consider him a success at all."

"I admit, I was surprised when you told me he was capable of magecraft," said Dumbledore. "Where is Harry now?"

"He's in the library with my wife."

Harry was eagerly going over the shopping list with Aoi when Tokiomi returned with the guest in tow.

To be honest, Harry didn't recognize the man. His attention was captured by the man's massive beard, which was actually tucked into his belt. And his purple robes with actually twinkling stars. And his half-moon glasses.

In short, the old man's appearance fascinated the eleven-year-old.

"Hello Harry," the man said, his eyes sparkling merrily at Harry. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. Do you remember me?"

Harry studied the man long and hard, then shook his head. Then he realized something and he snapped his head back up. "Aren't you the headmaster of Hogwarts?" he asked, holding up the letter.

"I am," Dumbledore said kindly. "I'm here to tell you about Hogwarts." He moved surprisingly quickly for someone so old and sat down in one of the library chairs, adding to Tokiomi and Aoi, "I hope I'm not imposing, but you may want to sit as well."

Tokiomi and Aoi took a seat beside Harry, who was already sitting down, and the headmaster began to explain.

* * *

**A/N the Second: Yes, Harry's a magus. No, he isn't powerful. Not at all. Leave a review if you're confused, or just do it anyway to feed my ego~!**


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